Gemotions

The clock on the microwave ticked with a relentless, irritating regularity. It was a sound that normally went unnoticed, yet today it drove a wedge through her. Lisa stared at the screen, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. Her husband, Mark, had been unusually secretive lately. She’d seen him sneak away to the garage, phone pressed to his ear, his voice a low, guarded rumble.


A tremor ran through her, a sensation akin to the first shiver of a fever. She felt a profound disconnect, as though the world had shifted slightly off-kilter. She wandered aimlessly through the apartment, touching objects, as if searching for an anchor, but found none.


She’d poured herself a glass of wine, but hadn’t touched it. The ruby liquid sat still, reflecting the dim light of the room. The emptiness was a physical thing, a cold presence that clung to her skin.